Jim
by 221Bookaholic
Summary: Sebastian Moran is a soldier who just recently got back from Afghanistan. Later he meets Jim Moriarty, a consulting criminal he starts to share a flat with, and commits crimes with, too. Basically a spin-off for the series. I suck at summaries, but you get the gist.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Okay, so I had a beautiful inspiration for this and I could not resist. Reviews would be greatly appreciated, because I always love a few good pointers here and there. Hope you like!**

445C

I had always enjoyed coffee. But I had never really thought that leaving my flat to get some would change my life so much. I mean, yes, it was a hard decision to actually make myself get up out of bed that morning; but now looking back on it if I went back to that moment I would've left the flat in a heartbeat. Not for the coffee, but for what came after. Meeting Jim Moriarty.

445C

The day had started out how it usually had. I woke up in my small flat, and I debated whether or not to get out of bed.

_You don't even have a really good reason to get up, _I told myself. _Normally, people only get out of the flat if they have something to do. So, what would I do? Well, I guess I could either:_

_A: meet someone_

_B: get coffee_

_C: look for a new flat_

I checked over my options, carefully eliminating several of them. _Looking for a new flat I don't have the money for, and that would require me to be out for quite a bit._

_A: meet someone_

_B: get coffee_

_No one's exactly lining up to meet an ex-military man who can't afford his own flat…_

_B: get coffee_

_Well, coffee it is then._ I decided. So then I got up, and after getting dressed, I left the flat, ready for a good dose of caffeine.

445C

After I got my coffee, I started to head to the door of the shop, sipping my drink. As I opened the door, I was greeted with a huge gust of freezing wind. I then retreated back into the shop, cursing under my breath. I hadn't bothered to bring a coat, figuring that I wouldn't stay out for long. Sighing, I headed to an empty table in the back of the room, since all the others were filled. It seemed like I wasn't the only one who was unexpectedly kept in here by the declining weather.

I was waiting for the weather to get better, slowly drinking my coffee when someone came to sit down at my table.

This man wasn't too tall, but not short either. He had a dark brown shade of hair, and was wearing a nice and probably expensive suit. _Westwood, most likely, _I thought to myself. He also had big brown eyes that to be honest I had found somewhat captivating. Although he seemed to be upset about the weather, his face showed a special reflection of humor that I assumed he always carried with him. A man like this, I assumed he was waiting for someone. I had no intention of interfering, so I slunk back into the chair at the far corner of the table. The man noticed this, and seemed to actually take offense.

"Hello," He said in a conversational tone. I ignored him, keeping to myself and sipping my coffee.

"You can speak, I assume?" He teased lightly. Certain he was now actually talking to me, I faced him properly.

He smiled at this, and offered his hand. "Jim Moriarty." He said.

I took his hand and shook it in return. "Sebastian Moran."

"Ah, he speaks!" He exclaimed.

"Are you meeting anyone here?" I asked.

"Oh, because of this?" He asked, gesturing to his suit. "Nope, unless you count yourself." He said, and winked at me. I couldn't help but laugh. _I like this guy, _I thought.

After that, we were just talking. Even after the weather got better. I told him about how I had just gotten back from Afghanistan, but he did most of the talking. He shared with me his current projects and ideas. He is a genius, I really believe so. The way he talked about these things inspired me, his personality altogether, really. But even though he had told me so much, I had not even found out his occupation.

"Don't mind me asking, but what do you do for a living? I just found it odd how much you told me yet I haven't found that out yet."

Jim smirked, obviously pleased. "Oh no problem, I figured you would ask eventually. I'm a consulting criminal, the only one in the world. I made up the job, you know." As he says this, there is a joyful gleam in his eyes, and I can tell that he enjoys this job quite a bit. He looks at me, as if expecting praise.

"Well it sounds better than what I do," I joked.

"Oh it is, trust me. I get so much fun out of it." After saying this, an awkward silence fell over the two of us.

Jim sighed dramatically. "God, I hoped you would bring this up yourself. But sure, whatever; make me ask. I assume you want to become flatmates?"

I stared at him in shock. "How do you know I need a new flat?"

"Well you pretty much told me already, since you said that you lived in a small flat you can barely afford with your army pension. Obviously looking for a flatmate then, since you can't exactly pay off your own rent. I found a nice place here in London; I believe it to be 445C Arrowhead Street. Or something like that."

He started to get up, and put his coat back on.

"Wait, we basically just met, and you are expecting me to just move into a flat with you? Just like that?"

"Yep, pretty much. But considering I'm not hearing any no's, I will meet you there at four." And with that he smiled at me and left the shop.

445C

Hours later, I found myself standing in front of the flat of 445C. _I must be insane, meeting a 'consulting criminal', and then hours later moving in with him?_ I sighed, checking my watch. The time read 4:02 pm. I was about to leave, thinking to myself that I had gone to the wrong address or just wasted my time, when a cab pulled up to the flat, and Jim came out of it.

"Seb! I knew you would show up!" He walked up to the door of the flat and opened it. "We have a flat to look at!" He exclaimed, as I followed him inside.

445C

Nearly an hour later, I had come out of that flat, agreeing to move in the next day or so. I just had no idea how much moving in with this wonderful and altogether crazy genius would change my life, or anyone's for that matter.

445C

**A/N: So that was chapter one. Did you like it? You know what is a good way to show if you liked it? A review. Just putting that out here. I will upload chapter two soon!**


	2. Chapter 2

The next week or so was pretty easy for me to get settled in. Or as easy as it would get living with Jim.

There was always surprises from him, that was for sure. I think the only thing he does consistently was wear those suits. And they were all the same brand, too. Westwood. But it was a different suit every day. For example, the other day, he left the flat at around four in the morning wearing a dark blue suit that was freshly ironed, saying he had some 'fun business to attend to', as he put it. Then, just like that, he left. The next day, he came back, wearing a jet black suit that looked completely new aside from the fresh bloodstains at the bottom of the pant-legs.

"Where did you get that?" I asked him. "I didn't think you brought anything with you?"

"Nope. I know some people, Seb." I, to be honest, had not intention of meeting these people, however. Yes, I would appreciate a new suit, but the blood on the bottom I didn't really want, either.

* * *

Aside from the blood that I always seemed to catch him wearing, there wasn't too much to complain about. Eventually, I had wanted to ask him about that, though.

Before he was leaving for what he called, 'work' one day, I had tried to ask him.

"Jim-"

I was instantly cut off by his joyful cry. "Sebbie!" _Well, Sebbie is new. Hadn't heard that one before. _I thought. "A new position has been... opened. Do you wanna take it?!" He had seemed so happy at this, I felt the urge to match his excitement and jump up and down.

"Wait, what do you mean, 'a new position'?"

"For work! You'll love it, trust me Seb. It's so much fun, and now you can play the games with me!"

And then, making the next stupidest decision I have made so far, I agreed. "Sure, why not?"

* * *

The next thing I knew we were at a castle-sized prison in Liverpool.

"May I ask what we are doing here, Jim?"

"You'll find out, be patient now. But trust me, this will be fun." I have heard that way too many times today. I'm not overly excited to find out what his idea of fun is.

He seemed to notice my tension. "Oh calm down, Seb. God, why are you so nervous? Think of this as filling out your resume, or something that normal people do to get whatever jobs they do. You don't even have to do anything, really. See, watch."

He then pulled out his phone.

"What the hell are you-"

"Stop talking, just watch the magic unfold." And oddly enough, I shut up.

He then pulled up an app with no label, but only an icon with what looked like animated jail cell bars that were pried open. He then clicked on it, and it started to load.

Comprehension finally dawned on me. "You sir, must get a lot of income from this precious job of yours. This is amazing."

He turned to me, smiling. "Oh, I know. Isn't it? Now just give it a few seconds..."

Suddenly, I heard the sound of hundreds of metal doors banging open. And everything turns to chaos. I begin to hear dozens and dozens of shouting voices, and I am nearly trampled to the ground by men, rushing out the door. I hear a garbled voice over the speakers saying something that I cannot quite make out.

Quickly, I try to catch up with Jim, following behind him.

"Come on Seb, just a few things we have left to do."

I hear gunshots as we draw nearer to his planned destination. I see Jim taking out his own handgun, and he tosses one to me as well. We make our way up several flights of stairs, taking no hurry whatsoever. Finally, we get to a level near the top with a huge window. As we come up the stairs, I catch sight of several frenzied guards.

"Stop or we will be forced to-"

Jim casually shoots them, regarding no hesitation. He almost looks bored as their lifeless bodies fall on the floor. Then, he spins around towards me, suddenly holding two cans of black spray paint. As he tosses me one, he turns back to the window, shaking the container.

"So," He says, examining the window. "Do you have any idea how to draw the Batman symbol?"

"Wait, what?!"

"I'm sure you heard me, Seb. I'm not going to say it again."

"No, you're saying that we broke into here like this, and killed those two men, just to spray paint the Batman symbol on this window?!"

"Basically. I figured you would enjoy it. Now tell me, do you know how to or not?"

"Well, I might..."

"Excellent! Then come on, we don't have _that _much time."

I sighed, walking up to the window. After finishing it, we both backed up, to admire the work.

"Not bad, Seb. I like it. Wanna sign it?"

"Why not?" I said, spray painting my initials onto the window. After Jim did so as well, we both headed out the door.

"I told you it would be fun," He teased. "This, my friend, will be the first of many."


	3. Chapter 3

As it turns out, it was. Each crime we started to commit got more risky, but of course more fun.

And then Sherlock Holmes came around with his little doctor friend, John Watson. At first, we were working less conspicuously on them, as they slowly found out about our little game.

...Jim can really rub off on me sometimes.

At first I was somewhat reluctant, I didn't want to go and ruin some bloke's life just because Jim said it would be fun. But things changed after the night at the pool. Quite a bit, I might add.

* * *

Jim had been acting strange, well, stranger than usual. He had suddenly been going without me. It always went like this:

"Jim, where are you going?"

"Well Seb, it's fairly obvious-"

"Ugh, no. Ok, let me rephrase. What have you been doing?"

"That's basically the same question."

"Well I assume you get what I mean. Why haven't you let me come?"

"I'll tell you when I get back?"

"No Jim, you always do this. Wait Jim-" And he was cut off as the criminal left the flat.

This was normally the furthest the conversation would go. And Jim had never told me when he got back.

Eventually, I got used to it. Probably 'filled my position' or something like that. But I didn't really care anymore.

So then, I had gotten back to regular eating and sleeping habits, and started living the closest to a normal life I would get with him. I started wondering, _did he ever really want me to work with him? I mean, why would he ever ask me in the first place just to diss me like that? God, you know, I'm probably just being sensitive. I'm acting like some sort of obsessed teenaged girl. He's Jim bloody Moriarty for God's sakes. I'll never know any of his motives._

That was when I saw him rush through the door of our flat, grinning madly. "Sebbie!" _This isn't good, he's calling me Sebbie again... _"I need help. Well, you in specific. You see, I looked into your military backround,- you should have totally told me about this, seriously, it would have helped a lot- and I found that your skills with firearms could be of use to me!"

"Wait, you looked at my backround?"

"A little snooping here and there, yes. But you're missing the point, come on, we are leaving for the pool."

"The pool?"

"I'm sure you heard me, I'm not repeating it, Sebbie. Oh yes, I almost forgot. Here, I found a list of the firearms you are best with and got them for you. You have great taste, my friend." He said as he casually tossed a giant bag filled with guns onto my lap.

I sighed, this was almost exactly like the first crime we went to. I'm not making that mistake again.

"Sorry, but no way. You can just go on your own this time, I-"

"Oh God, Seb. Stop being so dramatic. Is this about when I kept leaving without you?" He laughed, making me uneasy for some reason. "I was getting the guns. As easy as it was to get them, I still took a few days, gosh. Now that we established this fact, can we leave now?"

I stared at him. _Wow, of course. He's bloody right I am dramatic. _Oh well. "Sure, as long as you actually tell me more about what we are doing."

* * *

In the cab, he started to explain. After hearing about his plan, I had to admit it was clever. He had every detail planned, it seemed. Once we got there, I went to where he told me to go. I noticed the few other snipers he had stationed as well. I got myself ready, and then waited. I had perfect view of the pool, so I could really tell everything going on down there. I looked at the clock on my phone. It read 12:01. Sherlock should be here anytime. Jim had told me that John was already taken care of; had the bomb strapped to his chest and everything. I could almost hear Jim talking to him.

"Why are you so quiet, John? You can talk."

If there was a response, I didn't hear one.

"Well maybe you can talk to Sherlock for me, you seem fond of him enough. Oh I think I hear him. Showtime, pet!" Sure enough, I heard the door to the pool open. Everything fell silent. The only sound in the building had come from the detective's footsteps.

"I brought a little getting to know you present..." John should be coming out soon. I lift my rifle, preparing to take aim.

I see the taller man go silent as his blogger walks out. Jim was right, by the look on his face, I could tell he thought John was behind all this.

"Well this is a turn-up, isn't it, Sherlock..." I wait for him to open up his coat. When he does, I lift the rifle, taking careful aim and circling the explosive strapped to his chest. The detective is beginning to understand now. His face pales considerably when he sees the doctor like this.

I hear Jim's voice ring out through the pool area. "I gave you my number... I thought you'd call." He steps out so Sherlock can finally see him. "Jim Moriarty. Hi!" He says in a sing-song voice. He looks at Sherlock, and I do the same. You can see him trying to remember this man. Then confusion spreads across his features and you can tell that he's figured it out. Jim does too as he suddenly remarks, "Jim? Jim from the hospital? Hmm, didn't know I made such a fleeting impression... although, that _was _rather the point."

I don't even bother to hear Sherlock's remark. If this man is anything like Jim has said, or like how he even seems, I know it's going to be a witty comment. Sure enough, it is, and they start with the monologue. Oh dear Lord Almighty, the monologue. These two make such a pair. I ignore them for a while, until the ex-soldier tries to get the upper hand on us.

The shorter man instantly seizes Jim out of nowhere-gripping him tightly, getting a good lock on him. It's not the best hold I've seen, but then I get his point. I can't shoot him. If I fire at him, it's almost certain I will hit Jim instead. And even if I do hit him, I will probably set off the explosives. Killing all of us. Well played, soldier.

"Sherlock run!" I hear him shout. Does he really think we aren't prepared? I give a signal to another sniper stationed up here for this reason, and show him the scene unfolding. I hear Jim start to laugh. "Oh, good! Very good...I can see why you like him so much, but then people tend to get so sentimental over their pets." The other man stationed up here then aims at Sherlock's head with the gun he has. Then the duo is back at where they started. Jim has a point though, John really cares for Sherlock. And for someone who claims to be a high-functioning sociopath like him, he cares for him much the same. As part of the tension goes away, I hear Jim start to give Sherlock his point.

"If you don't stop prying, I will burn you. I will burn- _the heart _out of you." He's good at this, and I'm honestly impressed. Frightened as well, of course, but impressed nonetheless.

"I've been reliably informed that I don't have one."

More monologue. To be honest, I zone out a bit.

I see Jim walk out. They think it's over. Bit optimistic, aren't they? I pull back the gun, letting them think I left. Sherlock follows Jim out with his gun still trained on him. "Catch..you..later."

"No you won't!"

Everything was going as planned for now, that's good, right?

* * *

**A/N: I decided to end this chapter there, dunno why though. I figured it'd be a good cliffhanger, though. Sorry my update was slow. I'll update soon! -221Bookaholic**


	4. Chapter 4

I felt like things were going all perfectly. Jim had really planned for everything. But I had always been told that wasn't possible, so some small part of me was expecting something to go wrong. I tried to ignore that, I mean, I'm with Jim, the only consulting criminal in the world. The crazy genius who can undoubtedly take care of himself.

I waited, keeping my gun held back. I made sure that I was unseen and unheard to the crime-solving duo below me. You could tell they were still worried about something, but they wanted to believe it to be over. It seems we have really overestimated Mr. Holmes and his companion. They are both radiating so many different emotions, it's almost too much to process at once.

_Paranoia_

_Relief _

_Concern_

_Fear_

Through all their other emotions, that was what stood out the most. And that was Jim's goal. _Fear._ And he mastered it perfectly.

I check my watch, Jim should come back in about now. He was supposed to leave for a scheduled amount of time. Around a minute or two.

Three...two...one.

I lift my rifle, and aim it once again at Doctor Watson. This time, now pointing it at his forehead, since Sherlock has ripped off the bomb, as if repelled by it. He had thrown it across the room. I really am surprised, Mr. Holmes should've figured it out by now. The adrenaline is dulling his senses, it seems like. A man of his skills of deduction, he should easily be able to identify a real explosive. He does this with firearms, what, are explosives 'not of importance'? And when he lifted it off of John, he should have noticed it completely since it was so light. Me and Jim even talked about it earlier.

_"What if he notices? Anyone can tell that's not a real bomb. Or if he fires at it? An occurrence like that at least, is undoubtedly_ _going to come up."_

_"Seb, trust me. He won't notice."_

_"But if he fires at it?"_

_"He won't. Plain and simple. I know he won't. If he thinks it's a real explosive, he knows that it is highly illogical to fire at it; killing all of us. That would defeat quite a few purposes, and he wouldn't want to give me that satisfaction. Pride is a deadly thing."_

_"You're one to talk."_

Jim comes out, right on time. "Sorry boys! I can be soooo-changeable! It is a weakness. But to be fair, it is my only weakness. You can't be allowed to continue. You just can't. I'm sure that's crossed your mind." The other snipers he has stationed up here all position their guns on the two men. They are both completely still, shocked. It's true, they probably both expected it, but thy were most likely both hoping to avoid it, too.

They share a look of unspoken communication. And you catch John give Sherlock a slight nod. You see the taller man turn, facing Jim. He points his gun at him, holding it steady. "And I suppose my answer has crossed yours." He ever-so-slightly lowers the gun, aiming it at the vest. _The vest. _Oh God. Bloody convenient, just when Jim said that this would not happen.

My hand on the gun starts to waver slightly. I try to calm down. Sherlock won't actually fire it. Jim's right, it's illogical. What's the point of killing everyone in the room? Unless Sherlock knows. He could've figured it out already. If he can figure out if a man is cheating on his wife just by looking at his hand, he can surely tell that the explosive is not real.

I can't tell how Jim is reacting. His face remains mainly unreadable for the most part. But he gives the detective a face that says, _are you sure? Do you really think you can do it? Try it, come on, I dare you. _Which, I wouldn't be surprised if that was exactly what he is thinking.

The room is completely silent. Everyone has their attention fixed on the 'explosive'. What happens if Sherlock actually fires it? Most likely, his next move will be for Jim. But then I remember what I'm doing here. Oh yeah. Either way I fear blood might be shed at the pool tonight.

There is so much tension in the room now. As if everyone is holding their breath. All of the people in the room probably feel like that except for Jim. He looks bored. If this works, I'm going to slap him for this.

* * *

**A/N: I know that was short, but I felt extremely obligated to make a cliffhanger. You're welcome!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: So here's chapter 5. I apologize for the near month inconvenience, but life can get in the way of tings sometimes. This may be a bit OOC, but I tried, so pointers would be good. Enjoy! And please keep in mind that reviews are greatly appreciated. **

* * *

The tension was so thick in the room you could cut it with a knife. I watched Sherlock's fingers linger over the trigger, as if making a decision. I saw him seem to come to a conclusion, as his stance looked even more tense, if that was possible, and watch the muscles in his hand move over the trigger.

_Well, this should be interesting. _I readied my gun, prepared to shoot. When suddenly a sound cut through the room. It scared me half to death, and I almost pulled the trigger on Dr. Watson. The sound was coming from Jim. His pocket, specifically.

_Ah! ah! ah! ah! Stayin' Alive, Stayin' Alive,_

His ringtone. That's what it was. I sighed in relief. _Oh yes, I am certainly going to slap him after this. Bloody idiot. _

Meanwhile, John and Sherlock still looked confused. The deadly atmosphere in the room had been so suddenly replaced with an almost funny one that is was hard to comprehend. But I would understand, considering that their little face off was interrupted by the song, _Stayin' Alive._

Jim stood there awkwardly. He obviously did not expect to get a call right then. But he quickly regained his careless and sadistic manner and casually asked the detective, "Do you mind if I get that?"

The man waved it off, and gestured to his phone with the handgun. "You've got the rest of your life."

Ignoring the threat, Jim answered the phone. "Hello? Yes of course it is, what do you want?" As I watch him, my suspicions are confirmed that he did not expect the call.

He mouths sorry at Sherlock, and is silent for a few moments as he hears what the caller is saying.

"SAY THAT AGAIN!"

His sudden shout seemed to make the duo below jump. "Say that again," He says, quieter this time, but more menacing nonetheless. "and know that if you are lying to me, I will find you, and I will _skin you."_

He puts the phone down for a moment and looks up at Sherlock. "Wrong day to die," He mumbles.

"Did you get a better offer?" The detective asks.

Jim looks at the phone and shrugs in answer. "You'll be hearing from me, Sherlock."

He begins to walk out, once again talking to this caller. "So if you have what you say you have, I will make you rich. If you don't, I will make you into shoes." Then he snaps his fingers and walks out the door, letting me know that this time, it's actually over.

* * *

Once we are in the cab back to the flat, I freak out on him.

"You bloody idiot!" I shout at him in the back of the cab. The cabbie gives me a weird look like he's about to say something, but then bites it back. This is probably not the worst he has seen in the back of a cab. "What were your words again? 'Trust me, he won't do it'?! He was all too ready to shoot at that!"

"But he didn't." He states plainly. His sense of casualty to this conversation only fueled my anger even more. "And even if he did, that bomb wasn't _real_, remember?"

"Dear Lord-but what if he had shot you?! What then?"

"Well first off, Sebbie, he didn't. Next, I had snipers stationed up there for a reason. Although I am touched by the sentiment you posses for me."

As the cab pulls up to the flat, I storm out and leave Jim to pay the cabbie.

_He can be such a bloody idiot sometimes for someone who is so smart. God, I just need a full night's sleep at least. I need to clear my head. _I shake my head, as if that would help it. I stomp up the stairs of the flat, not wanting to talk to anyone tonight anymore, especially Jim. I ignore his shouts for me to stop being so emotional and to wait for him and head to my room.

* * *

The next morning, I wake to remember yesterday's events. _God, I wish I could just forget about that. But no, he probably has more planned with Mister Holmes, I'll bet._

I walk down the steps of our flat to see Jim sitting on the couch, staring off into space. I stop, almost expecting him to say something. But he does nothing. He doesn't even acknowledge my presence. So instead, I just head into the kitchen, looking for tea. When I find we have none, I settle for coffee. When I find we have none of that either, I plan to go shopping later and head to the coffee shop. Because I knew that if I stayed at the flat for too long, I'm going to get upset again.

"Seb, wait." I stop, halfway through the door. _Oh god, not this again. _

"Look, I'm really not in the mood for another one of your talks about how I'm too emotional, Jim. I'm really not. I get it, you were-"

"I'm sorry."

I pause. Thus wasn't exactly expected. I turn to face him. "Excuse me?"

"You already heard me, Seb. Now shut up and let me get this over with." I try my best to ignore his comment, seeing as he is apologizing for something. "I apologize for the way my actions have seemed to affect you emotionally, and I didn't aim for that. I'll try to prevent this from happening again in the future. Especially considering how I didn't actually expect that bit myself... But you get the point." He sighs dramatically, and gives me a questioning look. "So should I say something else, or-"

"No, thanks. It's fine. That was, er, _thoughtful- _of you." We stand in an awkward silence for a few moments. Then he regains his composure.

"Well! I'm glad that's over with. How do people do that all the time?!" He begins to get up and put his coat on.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I think that would be obvious, Seb. You need to start asking better questions. Now get your gun, we have somewhere to be."

I shook my head, laughing to myself as I grabbed my gun. _Bloody hell, Jim. Seems I've underestimated you. _I think as I chase him out the flat, ready to cause trouble somewhere else today.

* * *

**A/N: Did you all enjoy? I hope you did. If you did, you should leave a review. Just sayin'. Chapter 6 will be up soon! -221Bookaholic**


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